Wednesday Evening Journal

It’s hard to reckon how hard a start it was this morning. I wish I worked for someone else. I would have taken a ‘mental health’ day.  But then ‘mental health’ days become addictive.  I loved the program that allowed workers who were ‘sick’ to come to work and sit in the lounge but be present. Too many people in Canada are working two jobs.  As well, misery loves company. Most of mental health is made worse by isolation. And with the addiction incidence, taking time off is a way often to maintain an unhealthy lifestyle rather than get the appropriate treatment for the addiction. Or move over and let someone else have a better job.
Easy for me to say now that the bed is calling my name. I was fortunate.  Thanks to God and coincidence and the universe and the force it was a light day.  Welfare Wednesday always is.  The welfare cheque for so many is the ‘party money’.  And the question arises is it better to just maintain this lifestyle and morbidity in society or to have more formal structure.
I’m a hard ass.  I’m economically grounded. I have strange old fashioned ideas of community and public health. I was in the park today and there were more needles.  Suddenly the ‘needle exchange’ program became the free needles and proliferation of needles  and needles on sidewalks, parks and back alleys and one begins to wonder whose making all the money on this obvious waste and the creation of a public health hazard.
But I worked with others.  Patients were motivated and cooperative. I didn’t have those critical entitled people demanding more from a product that was already free to them.  I didn’t have any more threats or outburst or stuff stolen or the extortionist tactics. I didn’t have any attempts at sexual manipution or physical overbearing. It was just a normal day at the office. Some interesting pathology.  We gathered as doctors to listen to a chest which is likely pulmonary embolism.  We discussed what people would do if they had a gun placed on their desk like I did.  I explained why  I didn’t call the police.  I shared why I didn’t.  We had lunch and talked about the differences between women and men and how little women seemed to know about the world we lived in.  We discussed the way male and female patients had threatened us in our work and the standard patterns.  The triangulation of the women and the attempt to use a proxy while with the men it was always one on one.  The doctors expressed their fear of angry women patients and their experiences of delayed and indirect violence. We laughed about the irrelevance of media.  There was a certain camaraderie.  Staff joined us and we joked together about the demands of work.
It was good to vent together.  Black humour.
As the day wore on I didn’t feel so much alone.  Dinner with my doctor friend he shared his own sense of alienation.  We laughed about aging and how simply growing older made us less ‘attached’ to the things of this world.  Everyone was dominated by the environmentalists. Nothing could be done now without their unelected input. They seemed to be stopping everything everywhere and extorting millions if not billions from society but no one seemed to care that overnight this ‘conspiracy’ was all the vogue.  Every other ‘conspiracy’ was challenged by the lies upon lies of this latest collection of ‘cults’ some scientific, some pseudoscientific. All of them were ‘prophecizing but it was called ‘predictions’.  Isaiah would roll over in his graves to hear these priests with this mumbo jumbo.
Meanwhile I’m waiting for my $50,000 back pay and wondering when I’ll ever get the million dollars I lost in time playing bit parts in others make believe dramas.  I was the distraction. I was the scapegoat. I was the statistic that justified the powers turning their back on the baby killing en mass.  Lets keep an eye on this radical while the suits steal the bullion and kill as many as they can in the meantime.  Soften everyone up and make things so bad ‘physician assisted suicide’ will sell like abortion, marijuana and hotcakes.
The Israeli F35’s are being deployed.
China’s leaders have stated through their media proxy that they want to rule the world and that they must be prepared for war against the west.  They’re threatening war against everyone of the neighbours and continue to kill feminists in the womb while creating an excess of men.  Sunni terrorists expand everywhere and security becomes more and more difficult to maintain.  It’s a fragile thing this thing called freedom.  We’re on the verge of war with the threats of catastrophic earthquakes and tsunamis pending.
I’m older. Tired.  Glad to have got through this day.  I’ve prayed and even meditated. The gloom didn’t lift till dinner.  There were moments of light but the burden was ever present.  I don’t like this chronic adult hood.  There doesn’t seem to be any freedom on the edge of life.  We talked of our caution.  I shared my planning the Atlantic Expedition.  I can see myself sailing the north Atlantic islands .There’s something to the purpose. This slow moving continuation of the incomplete sail to cross Mexico or Panama disrupted then by lies and addiction.  Such a major set back.  Now the South Chinese seas are full of pirates and further along there are Somali Moslem killers. Everywhere Christians are being persecuted but the news refuses to talk about this.  It’s politically correct to kill Christians.  One can kill white men too.  It’s especially good to kill old Christian white men or even old Catholic white men.  Just don’t kill lions.
We talked about the effort to survive that the old are faced with now.
It’s been a long day.  I will sleep and this day will be over.  I showed up for it.  The meeting was good.  I was glad to be among friends.  Full house tonight.  Some military folk.  Doctors movie people business people, beautiful people.  Moments of bittersweet nostalgia.
Thank you Jesus.

Fishy Speakers

I remember when my friend claimed to be a spiritual guru of a kind but confessed years later he had been still smoking marijuana, Something about the way he spoke then had caused me to be cautious. Since he quit smoking dope he's humbler and real. His guitar playing and songs are a whole lot more authentic too.
When a positive person shares dates, of say, birthdays, that are really important to them, they are shared in a different way than mundane dates of negativity or neutrality.
Sometimes people use emotional 'tricks' such as maudlin reference to random death or a personal loss which rings untrue. This might then indicate some underlying level of dishonesty.
Mostly my ear seems tuned to the areas of 'specificity' versus areas of 'generality'. Carl Jung focussed on the emphasis and delays that people shared their inner character with.
There's also the criticism and expressions of superiority. These may be valid if there's more constructive reasoning and some evidence of superiority. But without these, 'preaching' often belies the dishonesty. When people other than 'preachers' 'preach' they're doing a 'one up' 'one down' thing out of a specific context.
I've even found myself asking if a person is what or who they say they are especially when they claim to be telling truth. Truth can be recited but doesn't necessarily come from the heart. I heard a young man sing a blues song once written by a very old man. It came off sounding pretty and clever.
There's a part of myself where 'discernment' lies and I'm thankful that it's like a sense of smell that says something is off without my needing to taste it. Whatever it is, isn't wasted because it can be used as compost. Yet it's not quite what I want for dinner at this point.
A lie detector might help but only if it had a sense of smell.


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